Without A Trace
by mewlissa
Summary: Love lost, love found... love kidnapped? Expect a sequel. :


**December 31, 1999 11:52 PM – Black Apartment, NYC**

Across the room, a dark stranger stood, nursing a drink. His eyes were covered by his hood but the pale lower half of his face stuck out against his black clothes. His eyes scanned the room, able to watch other people and remain inconspicuous about it. His eyes often ventured back to one younger girl, who he knew to be named Aislinn. She was only about nine, and her parents had obviously dolled her up for New Year's Eve in a frilly pink dress, including puffy sleeves. Many people were at the party, but all were legal to drink except for this girl. Her parents, Dr. and Mrs. Peyton Black, were hosting the get together and had invited all of their close friends but little Aislinn was too young to go somewhere by herself.

Mrs. Black was younger than her husband by far, about a fifteen year difference. It was obvious that she was depicted as a trophy wife with her long, sleek raven colored hair**, **fair skin and shocking bluish-green eyes. Tonight she wore a small black dress that barely passed her knees, paired with four-inch stilettos. She trailed after her older, handsome husband, giving him the confidence to chat with those he wasn't comfortable with and laughing at all of his jokes, even the lamest ones.

Aislinn had obviously gotten her looks from her mother, however her eyes were an icy grey, which she'd inherited from her father. The guests smiled at her as she weaved through the crowd, excited by the large commotion.

He wasn't invited; he was just a stranger in the corner, but no one seemed to notice him though his casual attire should have given him away immediately. Aislinn's eyes strayed from the large plasma, feeling his eyes on her and they stared at each other. Suddenly she wasn't so bubbly and she frowned at him, beginning to drift over without realizing until she stood right in front of him. She couldn't see his eyes. Her pale, dainty hand lifted slowly.

"Ten! Nine!"

The countdown began to ring in the New Year but Aislinn's interest remained with the outsider. Her small pointer finger twitched in anticipation.

"Six! Five!"

He watched her patiently, but his heartbeat began to pick up and pound in his chest. He was rapt and ready to push her hand away but he couldn't find the strength to.

"Three! Two! One!"

As the crowd cheered and clinked glasses, couples kissing and laughing, Aislinn yanked back his hood. Her eyes widened in fear and he finally came to realize what was happening. He grabbed her by the waist and yanked her up. He glared across the crowd, tugging his hood back up and swiftly sprinting through to the door, little Aislinn dangling at his side. He ran quickly outside to the New York City streets and took a deep breath, the puffs of air visible before him. He took a moment to clear his head before he set her down and a car pulled up, screeching to a halt. He opened the door and lifted her in. He slammed the door shut and the car sped off into the dark, snowy night.

**November 19, 2009 7:23 PM – Chicago Streets**

Aislinn pulled her trench coat closer over her as she braved against the harsh wind and chilly November air. Her heels clicked against the sidewalk as she ran with large grocery bags in one hand, the other holding onto her hat. Her long raven hair glinted in the autumn sun before she took a sharp turn into a dark alley, checking quickly over her shoulder before continuing. She came to the end of the alley, and stood before a door with chains all across it and a few caution signs. It appeared locked and forgotten but she knew better. She stuck a key into the knob and it opened easily, admitting her into a gorgeous apartment, unknown to anyone but her and Jack.

"Jack? I'm home!" she called, setting the bags down and shrugging out of her coat and hat. She took the bags to the kitchen and started to put them away in their respective places. She heard movement in the hall above her before a man came down the stairs. He looked to be about twenty, but she knew he was actually twenty-seven, something he'd been gifted with. His shaggy blond hair was in his eye and he shook them out of his eye as he sat down at the counter.

"You're late," he slurred. Aislinn could smell the alcohol wafting off his breath as he spoke. He had difficulty raising his eyes to hers to glare. "Where's my dinner?"

His Australian accent was more prominent when he was drunk. It was a constant reminder that he wasn't related to Aislinn. She frowned at him and poured raw noodles into a boiling pot of water. "I just got home," she told him. "It'll be done soon. Give me half an hour."

"No!" he roared, starting to stand up but as he swayed dangerously, he changed his mind and sat back down, and pounded his fist against the tabletop. "I'm hungry now!"

"Well, you'll just have to wait, won't you?" she said, lightly. "Here," she handed him some bread, "Eat this so you don't get an upset stomach."

He snatched it from her, glaring before starting to eat it. His hazel eyes watched her as she cooked. He was still in his pajamas, just some plaid pants and a white t-shirt and he had some blond stubble on his chin. She knew just by looking at him that'd he'd been up all last night, drinking and wallowing in self-pity. It worried her, because he had an ill-temper and could easily get violent. On more than one occasion he'd been violent towards her and she wasn't able to do anything about it, instead she had to take it because he had her life in his hands. She had scars all over her body (luckily her face was spared) that were a constant reminder that he wasn't to be trusted.

As she stirred the pot and prepared dinner, she kept an eye on him, keeping tabs on hisbehavior. He seemed to be calming down. He wasn't glaring at her anymore, instead just calmly staring out the grubby window. It wasn't much of a view from where they were located but he could see a small patch of sky. She looked out there too and sighed. It'd been ten years since she'd 'moved in' with Jack and her memories of her past life in New York were fading day after day. She could hardly remember her parents' faces anymore, even though she'd been with them for nine years. By this point, she could tolerate Jack but she didn't think she'd ever forgive him. She still didn't know why he wanted her to be here but her best guess was that he was lonely.

Even though she gave him enough company, he still wasn't straight with her. Jack had a dark past, she'd gathered that much, and he hadn't told her anything about it. She figured it had to do with his distortion. His left eye was completely gone and the left side of his face was distorted into scars and such. It wasn't a pretty sight but Aislinn had gotten used to it. Others couldn't though, and that was why he sent her out for food. Not to mention, she didn't have a criminal record. He had her use a fake identity, because even though it was years ago, people were still looking for the Blacks' lost daughter.

"Dinner's ready," she said softly, sliding the bowl of pasta and tomato sauce in front of him. He glanced at her and she knew that was the best thanks she was going to get from him so she served herself and made her way to her room.

She sat down at the small table in the corner, eating quietly with one hand and the other holding down the binding of a book on the surface of the tabletop so she could read.

"_Forgive me if I am amused. I do not mock your friendship, but only some seventeen minutes remain of my miserable existence. I would greatly value your friendship, but it would not suffice. There are men who can live without the society, without the intimacy, of women, but I am not such a man. Knowing Christine has made it far worse. I thought, I truly thought, that she might love me. I can bear my dreadful solitude no longer. Even Victor, poor, dumb Victor, has been taken from me. The need is like a pain, a hunger. Perhaps I have committed many grave sins, perhaps I am damned, but was I not born that way? Did some monstrous God form me with this face as a jest? Why should a mere child be tortured so? Ah, but God only laughs at my questions and my pain. One thing I do know, men and women were made for one another, to love, to cherish one another and I...But you cannot understand. I only want to die."_

There was a knock on the door that made Aislinn jump. Without hesitation, Jack entered and quietly closed the door behind him. It wasn't unusual for him to come into her room but at this time he didn't look angry, just sad. She watched him, closing _Phantom of the Opera_ and placing it on her bedside table. He sat on the armchair by the fake fireplace (it had been closed up many years ago) and stared at the pictures and books on the mantel. She had a vast collection of literature but her pictures were few, besides what she had painted since she hadn't been allowed to take pictures in his suspicion that she'd try to escape.

She waited for him to say something, standing by the bookshelves behind him, with her hands patiently folded. There was a long silence before he spoke, his eye staring at the picture of New York City she'd painted. His mouth opened, and he didn't say anything, as if he were trying to form his words.

"My parents were killed," he told her. She listened silently. "When I was six years old and still living in New York City, my parents were widely known and very wealthy. One night, we went to the opera house to see _Phantom of the Opera_, and it all went well until… That night it was especially dark and few people were out. We decided to take a shortcut through an alley, to avoid the rush from the opera. Our driver wasn't very far away."

He paused, remembering as he looked straight ahead. His head drooped a little, as the effects of the alcohol still hadn't worn off completely. Aislinn slowly made her way to the armchair next to his and sat down, looking at him and waiting for him to continue

"My parents- I heard something off back behind us in the alley, figuring it was a stray cat but I still had to look. A murderer was following us and before I had time to warn my parents, he saw melooking athim and he held up his hand. In it was a gun," he paused and took a deep breath. "He shot my parents. They died immediately. As he approached me, the police came. He began to run but as he ran down the street, he turned and shot me. The left side of my face was ruined. Doctors tried their best but this is as far as they got before I escaped, and made a life of my own." He lifted his hand toward his face but changed his mind and instead rested it on the armrest. "That's why I have this patch…and this face," he spoke.

Aislinn stared at him, finally beginning to understand him better after all these years. She didn't know why he had finally told her, but she was grateful. She felt something stir in her that hadn't for many years but she didn't say anything and respected the silence that endured.

"So," he stated. "Now you know."

Jack rose and left, shutting the door behind him and Aislinn heard him lock it for the night, as he always did. She sat silently for a while, before her clock chimed midnight and she moved herself to the bed. Her eyes closed as her head hit the pillow and she was immediately asleep.

**November 20, 2009 3:07 PM – Jack's Room, Chicago**

Jack rolled onto his side, waking up from a long sleep. His curtains were drawn still but some of the afternoon sun still shone from behind them. He sat up in bed, stretching before standing and trudging into his adjoining bathroom. He passed the mirror without looking into it (it was broken anyway) before stripping and stepping into a semi-warm shower.

When he was finished, he dried off and let his shaggy hair hang in front of his left eye and brushed his teeth, lettingthe morning prickles on his face stay as they were. He found some jeans on the floor an inspected them. After deciding they were clean enough, he put them on and threw on a white shirt. He yawned as he made his way down the hall to Aislinn's room. He stretched his arms behind his head before reaching her door and taking the key off of the hook on the wall. He made to insert it into the door but pulled up short when he heard small sobs coming from behind the door. Aislinn was crying. He frowned. He'd never heard her cry before and he didn't understand why she was, but he hung back for a moment before clearing his throat and making his presence known. The sobs ceased immediately.

"I want lunch," he growled at her when he opened the door, then left, leaving the door ajar. He found his favorite spot in the living room, his chair already heated up from the sun's rays. The apartment itself was a bit chilly but he was immune to it as he flipped on the television.

"-_and that came as a big blow, I'm sure! What do you have to say about that, Patrick?"_ a news anchor as her co-anchor on Fox Chicago News. Jack stayed on the channel, rapt for anything that would relate to him.

"_Well, not only was she brutally beaten, but you have to realize that her brother was also found just a few weeks later in the same condition! So to further report, any suspicions of Thomas Green killing his only sister, Regina Green, are now obsolete. More on this story next week," _the reporter said, straightening his papers. "_Now we go to Rachel, live, in downtown Chicago!"_

The screen was split, showing both the live reporter and the desk at the station. "_Thanks, Patrick,"_ the reporter said before the screen widened to just show her. "_Here we are, not far from the Hilton! Police are now searching the area for any suspicious activity, _but _only this morning did we receive knowledge that police reported a lead on the infamous missing Aislinn Black, just last night! Now, this girl has been missing for ten years-"_ Jack's eyes narrowed into a glare on the screen as they pulled up a picture of Aislinn at the age of nine. He found himself very nervous, his heart beat rate racing ahead. "_-kidnapped from a New Year's party the Blacks were having back in 1999. I think we can all agree that it's a mystery that she got from New York City to here in Chicago! Well, here behind me are the police busily at work, and we're still waiting to hear anything about the case."_

Jack left the television on before sprinting up the stairs and to Aislinn's room. He slammed the door open and the knob hit the wall so hard that it made a hole in the wall. "Aislinn, what have you done!" he roared. She was just finishing zipping up her dress as she jumped and turned to face him.

"What?" she squeaked, her eyes portrayed her confusion.

"They've gotten a lead on us. We're leaving," he growled. "**Now!**"

She nodded, frightened, and grabbed her bag full of her necessities. Jack traveled back to his room and grabbed his brown leather jacket and a grey hooded zip-up sweatshirt. He slipped on the sweatshirt first, and then yanked on his coat, throwing his hood over his head. He hurriedly stepped into his black converse and before he could even make to grab his wallet, Aislinn was in his room, helping him grab essentials. Her heart was beating wildly as she imagined escaping, finally, from Jack. But she knew if she failed, or acted out of turn, he would hurt her. She decided it was best to behave.

"Have you got your patch?" she asked him, over her shoulder as she hurried across the room and grabbed his medicine, dropping it into her bag.

"Yes," he snarled, then grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out the door. She had difficulty not tripping but she managed. He made sure she was properly covered, inconspicuously. She had on her trench coat with a scarf around her neck and a beanie over her head so that only her eyes were showing. The rest of her was sheltered.

"Jack-"

"Shut up! You've done enough."

"What if they find this place? Won't they find fingerprints and stuff…?" she asked as he shoved her out the back door.

He shook his head no. "I've already prepared for this."

She watched him as they ran through the back alley and slowing to a casual walk as they came and meshed into the Chicago crowd. They were on the opposite side of the block that the police were inspecting, but there were still police cars patrolling. Jack pulled some car keys out of his pocket and Aislinn narrowed her eyes in confusion. They didn't have a car. They broke into cars, so where had he…?

"Find a car," he muttered to her. She obeyed, and searched until she spotted a teenage boy leaving his car on the curb. He didn't carry his keys, and looked like he was going to duck into the record store for a moment. Teenagers were always stupid, she'd come to realize. She gestured to the car and Jack gave a barely existent nod. He extended the car keys as they approached and she stood by the passenger door as he pressed the unlock button on the car keys. Nothing happened but Jack was quickly getting into the car so she followed his lead, sliding in herself.

The car itself was obviously not the teenager's but rather his father's because it was nice on the inside. Jack started the car and they were pleased to see that the gas tank was full and it had good mileage. They pulled out onto the street and joined the ongoing traffic.

"That was almost too easy," Jack muttered.

"What did you just do?" Aislinn asked curiously, even though she knew she would be best to keep her mouth shut. He glanced over at her, glaring but told her anyway.

"I installed bombs in every corner of that house a while ago. If they go off, the house will be too demolished for evidence," he told her; his voice monotone. "I just set them off. Those keys were the button to activate them."

Her mouth formed the letter 'o' but she didn't say anything, and instead stared out the window, trying to process and calculate how many people would die from the explosion. She didn't think many would, but… still. With that bomb, their tracks were completely covered. No one saw them go in or out of the place since it was in an alley, they had no neighbors, and as far as anyone knew, that building hadn't been used for years.

"So, people are going to think that was a… chemical explosion, from…" she thought aloud.

"They'll most likely assume some teenagers broke in, despite the chains and caution signs and set something off in there. Anyone killed will be suspect."

"You thought this out a lot," she remarked.

He shot her a glare as they pulled onto the highway. He moved into the passing lane and pressed the acceleration until it hit the floor. When he reached 85, he decided that was fast enough without being suspected.

"You can sleep," he told her, after eight hours of straight driving. They had just pulled back onto the highway after getting some gas. "We'll be driving for a while."

She nodded, sleepily and reclined, slowly falling asleep from the rocking of the tires hitting pavement.


End file.
